I am a Stepping Stone
by The Libran Iniquity
Summary: Alcohol can make you do the stupidest things. Believe me, I know. I was there.


Nothing more than the cynical brand of Malcolm I've been poking recently.  
Season 3 spoilers.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Alcohol can make you do the stupidest things. Believe me, I know. I was there. More specifically, _we_ were there, me and this other bloke I barely knew, freezing our arses off and about to die of hypothermia, oxygen starvation or random aliens attacking. Whichever came first, although I personally would have preferred whichever would have caused me least agony during the process of killing me.

Anyway, I have this very vague memory of giggling like my little sister used to do when she was still in primary school, waving this bottle of liquor around like a prize, and declaring that I liked looking at a senior officer's arse. Her bum, in other words. Arse, bum, butt, derriere, Arsch... I believe the Vulcans call it _"pla'kruslar"_. They don't seem to have a more... familiar term for it - none that I've heard of, at least. But anyway. There I was, declaring idiotic admiration for a senior officer's _pla'kruslar_. I don't remember specifically the words I used, but I suppose I don't really need to. I do, however, remember the face on the guy sitting opposite me when I said it. We'd already gone through the whole pre-death male bonding ritual. All we'd needed to make the experience authentic were a few semi naked Brazilian strippers and my aunt's special brand of homemade whiskey.

His face - the bloke sitting opposite me - his face lit up like a Christmas tree. And I knew, even then, pissed off my head and freezing cold, that he was going to get the girl. He had the ammunition he needed, you see. He knew that if ever - ever - I got a chance with said senior officer (okay I admit this was a very unlikely prospect - but a man can dream...) then he would have this to use against me. One of my first impressions of this man was that he was someone who, when he knew what he wanted, would get it. Every single time.

It only took him two years. Quite impressive, really, especially when you consider that the girl in question was, in fact, a Vulcan. They didn't last long. I'm not sure if he wanted them to or not, I just know that they didn't.

I still think about it sometimes. I mean, I'd known all along that she and I were never going to be a couple. We'd made gentle pushes towards friendship, and in the end that was great. She was intelligent, made good conversation - when it suited her - and we used to have debates that would last the whole night through. That didn't last long, either. Maybe my own insecurities, maybe the burgeoning will we/won't we that the two of them had going on on the side.

I can't say I was betrayed in any way. For one, that would be childish, something I've always tried to avoid being. Second, and like I said, I never stood a chance with her. We were friends. That was all it was ever going to be, and it worked. Maybe it was him, then. I certainly can't see any other reason for us being friends. We were just too different. Where he was loud and outgoing, I was quiet and introverted until I got to know people better. He was a hit with the ladies - wham, bam, thank you, ma'am - whereas I... the few women on _Enterprise_ I did become close to saw me as a means to another end altogether. I was a confidant, I was a drinking partner, and I was a friend.

I was a stepping stone. I'm quite proud of that analogy. I came up with it during Starfleet training. There were several people in the same training groups as me with whom I first became acquainted, then friends. I had something they needed. Someone to motivate them into 6am jogs around countryside and lakes. Someone to explain to them again and again the internal workings of technology that was being developed and slowly brought into use. Whatever the something they needed was, I usually had it, and once they were done with me, they'd move on to bigger and better things. Leaving me behind, right where I'd started. I'm pretty sure it wasn't intentional on my part, to let that kind of thing happen to me time and again, but while they lasted I did enjoy the friendships.

I learned things. Like never take anything at face value. Always take one step backwards and look at the bigger picture. Be cynical to the point of extremity, it'll only hurt otherwise. And if I do get hurt, for crying out loud don't show it. They won't do anything about it.

Mark, that was his name. Mark Latrelle. Back during training, he was the worst offender. I like to think that it's thanks to my endless midnight tuition that he is where he is now. Last I heard he'd quit Starfleet, and is now head of a civilian engineering corps somewhere in the Amazon Basin, married to one of my other former friends - she'd been the one spending several nights a week for the best part of a year crying on my shoulder and bemoaning the lack of decent men in the universe. So she still hasn't learned anything, then.

Remember the man I was telling you about earlier, the one who'd been privy to my drunken declaration of bum lust? Charlie Tucker's his name, although of course, he'll shake your hand with a contrived boyish grin and suggest you call him Trip. He'd been the one on _Enterprise_ who had finally shown me that it was okay to take things as they looked, that people didn't always have an ulterior motive.

I trusted him.

And oh, how the mighty do fall. He's going places as well, from what I know. Not like Mark, though. No, Charlie boy here's moving up in the universe. See, all those times I've been to him with ideas on how to improve this and that in the armoury if only I had just a little extra power from Engineering on tap when I needed to run active simulations. He finally caved in, after that time a couple of years ago with the arrogant alien pissheads who made me work right through my birthday. He finally caved in, and every so often I'd actually accomplish something that would keep _Enterprise_ even safer - I'd achieve something worthwhile.

Then, of course, the fall. One of the side effects of my most recent... experiment was that the efficiency of the warp engine increased by twelve percent, literally overnight. Trip, knowing the ins and outs of my plans like the back of his hand - due more to his insistence than anything else - managed to pass off the increase as his own doing. And got away with it. Still getting away with it, I might add. Nobody's cottoned on just yet, and I don't suppose they ever will.

Maybe it's the Expanse, out there, doing things to my head. I never used to be this cynical. Well, not so much that I'd actually admit it to myself. It's always been there, I guess. A niggling little voice at the back of my head always making sure that I was always half a step back from everything and everyone else, making sure that I could see a bigger picture before jumping in arse first and making a spectacle of myself.

Because I am a stepping stone. And I know that none of this will make much sense, probably because I haven't exactly had time to think this through. Most of it's coming straight off the top of my head. I think I just want to get it off my chest. Yea, okay. And after all, it's not as though you'll be able to do anything about this, use any of it against me, will you?

Bloody hell, I'm talking to the weapons again. Alright, so I was talking at you just now, but there's a difference, something in the tone of statement. Talking _at_ you, not _to_ you.

Ah, well. Maybe I'll be thinking straighter in the morning. Could do with it as well... I know we've just come out of four days' worth of stasis, but that hardly stops Captain bloody Courageous from taking us into our next Xindi hunt. Yes, I can call him that here. Nobody's around to hear me, and if they are I'll plead insanity and do... something. Give me enough time and a few choice weapons, I might even be able to implement it, whatever it may turn out to be.

Okay, time to go get some sleep, and tomorrow I can worry about saving the world. Ernest Hemingway said something about that, I think. "The world is a fine place, and worth fighting for." I forget where exactly that comes from, but it's always stuck with me, for some reason.

"The world is a fine place, and worth fighting for."

Between you and me, I agree with the second part.


End file.
